Of Chances and Changes
by mademoiselle maudlin
Summary: Sakura, Sasuke, and running towards possibilities. (ssm19d23)


Here under the thick canopy of the forest, where moss crawl on the floor and up the trees, where tiny insects fly about and the larger animals freely roam, where sprouts signal the start of new life in the midst of the foliage, where strips of warm golden sunlight seep through the density of the leaves and make its way to the damp floor through tiny clearings, she rides the cold wind that bites and flushes her cheeks and stings and waters her eyes.

She takes it all in. When she closes her eyes and blinks the small tears away, she can still hear the chirping of birds above and the bristling of bushes below. When she takes a deep breath, she can smell the dampness from last night's rain as well as the freshness from today's dawn. When she sets her eyes forward, she can see less than a day's worth of road to travel before she can get home. She has spent the last eight weeks in another village, in another country, where she led the containment and cure of an outbreak of a water-borne disease. There were minimal casualties, but they are casualties nonetheless.

She drops to the ground when she spots a clearing, deciding she could do with some lunch and rest. She walks leisurely, thinking about how many people still don't have access to basic health needs. As she sits down on a fallen log, she says to herself, _"There has to be something we can do."_

She takes an apple from her bag and stares at it for a few seconds, wondering when she would stop associating the sweetness of the fruit with rejection and anger and a broken heart. There is a tiny pang that constricts in her chest, but she breathes in and shakes her head, then reminds herself that she is strong, that she has work to do- there are people to revive and save, there are medics that need to be trained, and there are facilities that need to be built. She takes a bite of the apple and notes that it is crisp, much like a sliced one scattered on the floor and stepped on many years ago. She closes her eyes and shakes her head again, as if to push the memory back into the deepest part of her brain, a part where she locks away moments concerned with dark eyes, dark nights, moonlit roads, and good byes. Breathing in, she says to herself, _"My heart is stronger than the pain."_

After quite a while, she stands up, well-rested and eager to get home, when she senses four different energy signatures heading toward her. She notes their even pace- fast but not breakneck. She breathes to calm herself down, grabs a kunai from her pouch, and holds it steady as she moves to an edge of the clearing, ready to face those who are about to show up on the other side. She stays vigilant with her eyes wide open and her hearing sharp; they are close.

They know someone is close by- all of them have sensed the lone energy signature. Looking to their leader, he has stayed the course, seemingly unbothered by whoever it might be, and chooses not to go around and evade the lone energy. They have seen how strong he is, they know he can take whoever it is down, and so they don't worry. If anything, they are eager for some sort of entertainment after the past few days of gruelling travel. Their leader, although his face remains passive, wonders who could be stupid enough to be so deep into the forest and yet so alone. When he gets closer and gets a better sense of the energy, his chest starts drumming, his head starts pounding, and he fights the urge to run much faster.

Of the four signatures, one stands out to her, its familiarity evident, and yet disbelief crosses her mind and narrows her eyes. Confusion in times like this is an enemy, she knows, and so she pushes her conscious self to clear her head. _"If it's not him, then I need to work on fine-tuning my sensing. If it's him…"_

Can the heart be fine-tuned to forget?

She sees them arrive one by one at the other edge of the clearing. There is a woman with fiery red hair who abruptly halts her tracks and stares at her warily. There is a pale man, with a huge sword and a sly smile, who chooses to stay perched atop a branch. Next to stop is a burly man whose body screams danger yet whose face depicts calm. The last to the clearing is another pale man who lands on the ground with the quietness and lithe meant for the most dangerous of predators, and he stares at her.

The sight of him makes her grip on her weapon tighter. He is dangerous, she is aware, and the sight of him threatens to break her if she cannot hold herself together. She can hear her heart beat louder and the forest around her seemingly grow quieter. She can almost touch the tension in the air, not because she is outnumbered, but because she knows there is a dam of different emotions waiting to break; forced to be the deep reserve that it is, it can barely contain the frustrations, disappointments, regrets, apologies, what ifs, truths left unsaid, and everything else that heartbreak entails, let alone the love.

In a span of a couple of minutes that stretched on to feel like half a lifetime, he tells his team to stay put and he decides to move, to move forward, to move towards her. He does it painstakingly slow, careful not to make sudden moves, conservative of his steps, and cautious in his stare. He takes one step gingerly, then another, and then another, and a lot more, until he is closer, until he is close enough to reach but far enough to wonder what to do next.

His gaze is fixed on her as hers is on him, and in that moment they have made a bubble small enough to fit two hearts beating as fast as if they have spent all of their past life running away from something that hurts, and yet large enough to contain a moment so big that it is hard to imagine how it could happen before it does.

Now that it has, they are stunned to silence, gazing at each other with depths that rival the oceans. She sees the leanness of his body that has grown taller over years of absence and he notes the slimness of hers that has grown taut over months of rigorous training. She catches the way his shoulders stand firm, if only to be enough to carry the burden of his past, and he glances at the sturdy tone of her legs that look adequate to carry the weight of the lives that depend on her. They catch each other's eyes- she studies the softness and darkness of his and she is again mindful of the fact that, to her, his eyes are of the midnight sky when all of the stars seem alive; he examines the life in hers, the greenness that can be compared to a rare gem, and he is sensible enough to admit to himself that her eyes are his favorite pieces of the universe.

It takes a few more flutters of heartbeats before they even their breathing, and it takes a few more even breaths before they relax their tense muscles.

_"__Hi,"_ he whispers into the air between them.

It resonates within her, that simple greeting that seem to speak volumes about other unspoken things. _"Hi,"_ she breathes back, and then she offers him a small sweet smile.

He takes a step forward and she drops the kunai and they hurry to close the distance between them, taking the other into their arms to become a tangle of limbs and backs and bodies and so many unspoken but unforgotten things.

It's a delicate thing- the fine line between togetherness and loneliness. One minute you can feel like a part of a whole, the next minute you could be feeling like a whole that needs to feel full. It's intangible, that line, and can be difficult to tread sometimes. They stand there breathing each other in and forgetting the existence of the world, and unknowingly stand on the line, too.

_"__I miss you,"_ she says into his chest, honesty dripping out of her words.

_"__I'm right here,"_ he answers into her hair with such veracity, as if it's the only truth that matters.

She pulls her head back a little just so she can look into his eyes, and then she says, _"I'm glad you are,"_ with a smile. Keeping her left arm around him, she brings her right arm up and brushes his hair away from his face, letting the strands fall back into place while she passes a stroke to the side of his head. When he closes his eyes and relishes the intimacy of such a brief moment, she rests her palm on his nape, stands on her toes and angles her neck, closes her eyes then presses her lips against his, and suddenly, nothing feels fleeting anymore.

What courage her heart must have.

The feel of her lips on his is thrilling and riveting and stimulating and so, so natural, so normal, like his lips were made for nothing and no one else. He kisses her back with fervor so intense, as if apologizing for the fact that this can never make up for lost time. When they finally part for air, he keeps his arms around her, keeping her close as long as he can, as long as she lets him.

What love his heart must feel.

_"__Happy birthday,"_ she tells him, and he feels his heart swell with joy. He smiles at her, beams at her with a boyish grin she has never seen before, and her heart feels like exploding.

_"__Walk with me?"_ he asks, and when she nods her agreement, he takes her hand and holds on tight and they start their stroll into the forest.

_"__Where are you headed?"_ he asks, curious as to why she is alone.

_"__Home."_ She looks up at him and wonders if he can guess what she will ask next. _"I don't suppose I can persuade you to come with me, am I right?"_

He shakes his head a little, sure that she already knows the answer to her question. Despite, he tells her, _"I still need to find him."_

There are some things that are hard to put into words and sometimes, reasons are one of them. She does not press for more, does not persuade him to keep talking about his reasons for staying away. Much like she does, he has things he need to do on his own, for his own. It's easier to accept it that way. So they walk, fingers entwined and not letting go, not talking, and feeling like never letting each other go.

Such peace they must be in.

Some time later, they are on their way back to the clearing when she feels the compelling need to ask, and so she does. She turns to her side and, with such curiosity and need and hope and a slight tremble in her voice, _"When will you be coming home?"_

He stops walking and turns to face her. He looks neither angry nor annoyed, and she is not afraid of what he will tell her. He steps toward her and raises the hand he has been holding and places it on his chest, then uses his other hand to cup her cheek. He has noticed how her question has come out both sad and longing, and as he uses the pad of his thumb to wipe her cheek of tears that have long dried, he holds her gaze and tells her, _"Right now, I already am."_

She takes that to heart, the biggest surprise and the most welcome confession she has ever known, and she smiles the brightest smile he has ever seen. Home for him is not four walls and a roof; home is a pair of small hands so strong that they can pull him out of the dark, a pair of eyes so bright they can drive the darkness away, green apple-scented pale pink hair that can easily be a beacon of light, and a soft voice that calls his name. Home is the warmth of this woman- _the_ woman- who owns a heart strong enough and big enough for the both of them.

The time to leave comes but he is still holding her hand and she is not letting go. There is so much to be said about farewells and yet nothing more to say than farewell. It never gets easier- letting go.

He settles. He raises her hand to his lips and kisses her knuckles, kisses the back of her hand, kisses her palm, then raises and rests her hand on his shoulder and wraps his other arm around her and he kisses her lips. He commits the feel of her lips to memory, if ever there will be no more chances in the future. The kiss is gentle but passionate, something that he hopes will reverberate through a lifetime; maybe through more. It is hungry but not wild, something that he hopes will make up for the good bye he can never utter out loud.

_"__Come back to me,"_ she reminds him. _"One day, when you are ready, come back to me,"_ and he tucks it away in his heart and mind as he jumps to the trees and takes off, on his way to fulfill what he believes is his destiny, followed by three people who now got his back. His face has become passive once again, though his hand is still warm from her touch and his lips are aching for hers. He needs to finish what he has started, he needs that for a clean slate. When the time comes, when the time is right, he will settle everything, and he will come back to her and they will settle down and build something that will last for the longest time.

It's not the easiest thing to control when one is reverting to old ways. Seeing him has made her feel like the little girl she used to be. He has strayed so far from her path and he is straying further away, but after she has seen him today, there is a bloom of hope. It blooms in her chest as she grabs her bag and goes off into the road home, knowing that he can be pulled from the dark. As it is, she estimates her arrival to be some time in the wee hours of the night, and she hopes the sky will be dark and the stars will be alive.

_"__Wait for me,"_ he had whispered in response, not a command but a plea, and so she decides she will and keeps his promise in her soul. On her way home, she plans on immersing herself in her work. After all, there's only so much she can do to help others. She will dedicate her time to helping others, but she will wait for him; one day, when he's ready, when he comes back, he will come back to open arms and she will thank all of the stars for the chance to start over, start anew.

They are stronger than the pain.


End file.
